


The Last Prince Of Lucis

by Akumeoi



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everybody Lives, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23789974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumeoi/pseuds/Akumeoi
Summary: A second conversation with Prompto on a rooftop when Noctis is down leads to a change in his ultimate fate.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 13
Kudos: 121
Collections: Quarantine FFXV Exchange 2020





	The Last Prince Of Lucis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ActivelyWeird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActivelyWeird/gifts).



> My giftee asked for Promptis hurt/comfort, but didn't specify whether AUs were okay, so I decided to stick on the safe side and do canonverse. Then I was like, "oh no, I haven't written canonverse since 2017." But then I remembered I had an old promptis h/c dialogue skeleton saved that actually _was_ from 2017. It was supposed to be part of a fix-it series called "Turn Back" and I was like - "a fix it? Isn't that the theme of this event? a-ha, it's perfect!" I dusted it off, polished it up, turned it into a real fic, and here it is! Hope it hits the spot. :)
> 
> Thank you so much to Math for the beta!

Noctis was sitting on the roof of the Three Z’s Motel in Longwythe, looking out over the sunset landscape and trying not to think about the day’s events. After another of Cid’s choice remarks about how Noctis looked like his dad but with “the dignity kicked out of him,” Noctis had been just cranky enough to take his friends’ teasing as another insult and get into an argument with them. The details of it barely even mattered (or so he told himself); he was just tired and needed to be alone. 

The door to the roof swung open with an audible creak, and Noctis sighed. From the sound of the footsteps, he knew it was Prompto - somehow still with a bit of bounce left even after the Hunt they had been on near Hammerhead. Prompto had picked up on Noctis’s habit of going up to the roof any time he wanted space or just to chill out, and would often come to bother him when he did. Prompto wasn’t very adept at distinguishing between the reasons Noctis came here, but Noctis couldn’t find it in himself to mind too much because they often had their best talks up here. 

A few weeks ago, Prompto had confessed his insecurities and they had had their first kiss on a rooftop in Old Lestallum… 

As Prompto approached, Noctis looked up in greeting but didn’t move. Prompto also did not attempt to sit down.

“Hey, Noct. Um… can I talk to you for a second?” Prompto said, hands fiddling with his belt in a way that said he was slightly nervous.

Noctis hesitated for only a moment. He wasn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone, but he never really said “no” to Prompto. And maybe talking about Prompto’s problems would help Noctis take his mind off of his own. 

“Sure, what’s up?” Noctis said.

“Sweet,” Prompto said, sitting down next to Noctis. Although Noctis expected him to talk right away, Prompto was silent for a moment, lightly swinging his legs into the open air off the edge of the roof.

“Noct,” he said at last. “I… I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine, okay,” Noctis said more roughly than he had intended, instantly regretting agreeing to this conversation.

“Um, wellllll…” Prompto hedged. “I can read the room, Noct.”

“Are you gonna get on my case about earlier?” Noctis said, folding his arms and wondering if he should just warp off this roof and run away, or maybe die by crashing into the cold, hard concrete. 

“No!” Prompto exclaimed, sounding frustrated. “Listen, I just want to help you. So let me talk? Please?” 

The gentling of Prompto’s voice made Noctis relent, even though he had a feeling this _was_ about earlier, and he seriously doubted he wanted to hear anything anyone wanted to say about the subject of his _kingliness_ right now. As if Cid’s constant reminders of how Noctis failed to live up to his father’s image weren’t bad enough, now all of his retainers apparently thought he sucked, too.

“Fine,” Noctis said shortly, hoping he wasn’t making mistake number two in letting Prompto keep talking.

“O-okay. Okay, geez, Noct,” Prompto said and took a deep breath. “Obviously I don’t know what it’s like to be king. And I’m not gonna tell you how to do it, or say that you’re doing it wrong, because I don’t know. I don’t know.” As Prompto spoke, his voice picked up speed and sureness. “But whatever’s making you so defencive - that right there - that’s got to stop, buddy. I don’t know what’s eating you, but I just wanted to say. I’m not good for much else, but if you have something to say, just lay it on me. I’ll listen.”

Those words fell into the air between them and settled like an outstretched open palm, waiting for Noctis to respond. Not quite sure how to feel, Noctis let out a long, tense breath.

“There’s nothing to say,” he said bitterly. “Gladio thinks I don’t know what I’m doing.” He mumbled an admission: “He’s probably right.”

“What, and you think he knows what _he’s_ doing?” Prompto said, one eyebrow raised.

“Herding me around? Yeah, and he’s good at it.”

“Noct…” Prompto said, gently chastising him. Noctis _knew_ that Prompto was talking about how none of them really knew what they were supposed to do now that Insomnia had fallen, not even Ignis. But it always seemed like Ignis and Gladio were confidently assured in what they did, so much so that even Noctis forgot that technically they were _all_ lost. At the very least, it was so unfair that Ignis and Gladio seemed so much better put together than Noctis did.

“I’m just tired, okay?” Noctis said at last.

“Tired of what?” Prompto said, tilting his head.

“What? Ugh - why are you asking me that?” Noctis said, throwing up his hands. “Gods, Prompto - _this_ , okay? This road trip, being a prince, I don’t know, life. I didn’t ask for this to happen - any of this shit. And now Gladio won’t get off my case, as if I’m supposed to just know what everyone expects me to do. How could I not be tired?”

Noctis scowled, folding his arms again.

“I get it,” Prompto said seriously. “You’re tired of pretending.”

“What?” Noctis said, startled, posture uncurling. “How could you know that?”

“I’ve been there, buddy. Not for king shit. Just, y’know. Life shit.” Prompto gave a lopsided smile.

“Life shit,” Noctis repeated.

“Yeah.” Prompto bit his lip.

“You…” Noctis hesitated, wanting to know how, _how_ could Prompto possibly understand this feeling he hadn’t even put into words, but at the same time afraid to push him. “Is it what we talked about before?”

“Um, yeah, actually,” Prompto said, running a hand awkwardly behind his neck. “There was this time, when we first started being friends - like really friends, y’know, not just kids who know each other - when I was scared every day that you would just wake up and realise there was no reason for you to be friends with me. I thought you would look at me and see… who I really am.” 

“Which is?”

“Someone not worthy of being your friend,” Prompto said with an awkward smile and a careless toss of his head.

Something inside Noctis always clenched into a fist whenever he heard Prompto talk like that about himself.

“I already told you, you're good enough for me,” Noctis said firmly, putting his hand over the back of Prompto’s, where it rested flat against the rooftop. “You always have been, and you always will be.”

Prompto smiled, more genuinely this time, turning his palm upwards to give Noctis’s hand a squeeze. “I know that now. But Noct, you've always been more than good enough for me, too.”

Noctis’s eyes widened and he withdrew his hand, startled. _He_ was good enough? Why did those words seem to reach into him so deeply? Unlike Prompto, he was confident in himself - or so he thought. It wasn’t the kind of thing he should need to hear. But the sudden swelling in his chest told him that in fact, he did need to hear it - badly. Noctis drew in a shaky breath and felt a soft touch on his back as Prompto rested a hand there to comfort him. 

“Prompto, I…” Noctis started, feeling the words come out rough and pained, “I don’t know how to be king.” He hesitated, then in a whisper impulsively blurted out: “I don’t even know if I want to be.” If he had to reach into the depths of his soul, he would’ve perhaps been able to articulate that he didn’t know what being a king even meant anymore. With Insomnia fallen and Lucis fractured, what would he even be king of? 

“Well, that’s okay,” Prompto replied, his hand not wavering from Noctis’s back. “You’re not the king of Lucis yet, are you? I don’t really know how these things work, but there was never an official ceremony, right? So don’t worry about it. Even Ignis and Gladio still call you Prince Noctis and Your Highness.”

“Yeah, I guess…” said Noctis.

“I dunno,” Prompto said. “Does it really matter right now, whether you’re king or not? Just keep being the prince we all know and love for now, and if you want to give up the throne or whatever, there will be plenty of time to decide that after we save the world.”

Hearing Prompto imply that Noctis could possibly abdicate made his heart jolt in his chest. It was a forbidden idea, a forbidden thought. And yet, Prompto was just tossing it around like it was a valid option. Noctis didn’t want to abdicate, he was pretty sure. But knowing that Prompto thought he _could_ , and it would be okay… it made him feel better - like he actually had a choice.

“You really think we can do it, huh?” Noctis said, looking at Prompto hopefully. “Defeat Niflheim and whatever else I’m supposed to do?”

“Yeah, of course I do,” Prompto said, hand on Noctis’s back tightening into a reassuring shoulder clasp. “King, prince, even if you’re just a guy, I’m behind you all the way.”

Finally Noctis gave in. Scooting closer to Prompto, he leaned into Prompto’s side and tilted his head onto his shoulder. Prompto’s arm moved up to encircle his shoulders, and Noctis felt all the tension drain away from his body as he relaxed against his best friend. 

“Thanks, Prompto,” he said quietly, hoping that Prompto understood the implicit apology for snapping at him earlier.

“Sure, Noct. Of course,” Prompto said, squeezing Noctis’s shoulder. Prompto tilted his head so that it rested on top of Noctis’s. 

“I really love you. You know that, right?” Prompto said quietly. 

“Like you need to say it,” Noctis said, raising Prompto’s free hand to his lips and giving it a gentle kiss.

Together, they watched the stars until the calm of the evening settled over Noctis like a blanket. Maybe he wasn’t yet a failure as a king after all, and things were going to be okay. 

⁂

Inside the Crystal, the winds were silver, the air was opalescent blue, and the world was upside down. Bahamut’s words rang in Noctis’s head like the tolling of a great, dark bell.

_Many sacrificed for the king, so the king must sacrifice for all._

All he felt was black despair, consuming him inside and out, as he understood the implication of Bahamut’s words and realised what they meant with regards to his fate. If Noctis could’ve fallen to his knees, he would have - but this realm where he was suspended floating in the air denied him even that. 

Amid his confusion, a memory surfaced, a memory of comfort amid another kind of darkness. 

“But I’m not a king,” Noctis blurted out, remembering Prompto’s hand on his shoulder. “I’m not - I can’t -”

“You are the King of Light,” Bahamut insisted in an ominous tone, although as most things he said were ominous and vaguely incomprehensible, Noctis didn’t notice.

“I was never coronated. I’m still a prince,” he explained, not from any particular hope but because… it was what Prompto had said, and he had accepted it as important, and as true. And as meaningful, because it was Prompto who had said it. 

“No matter. The crystal accepted you within its light. The Ring of kings did not burn away your soul. You are the last king of Lucis,” Bahamut said. “As it was with the first of your line, if the Crystal choses you as king then so shall it be.”

There was no argument to make to that. Maybe it was never Noctis’s to decide whether or not he’d be king someday, at least not in the eyes of the Six. For a brief moment of clarity, Noctis finally understood what being king meant, at least for himself. He would be a king with no people to lead, representing Lucis and shaping its destiny, yet without the power to choose the form of that shaping. Nor would he have any influence over the people, or even be known by them. Noctis would never be a king as in “ruler of men” - the only part of the job he had actually been looking forward to - helping the citizens of Lucis lead better lives. Instead, he would be a short-lived figurehead, more blazing star than king, and he would be crushed to dust under the weight of it.

All the breath left Noctis’s body and he felt once again that desire to fall to his knees. He didn’t have the strength to fight his destiny any longer. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

There was a pause, in which Bahamut neither spoke nor moved. At this point, Noctis just wanted to be left alone so that he could curl into a ball and shut his eyes. Would he have to spend an indefinite time in the Crystal cupped in Bahamut’s palm? Could he not have a least the grace of privacy to mourn in peace?

“You do not seek power,” Bahamut observed. 

Noctis shook his head, wondering why this conversation wasn’t over yet.

“All humans seek power.”

“I don’t need it,” Noctis said dully. He had never sought power for himself, only to fulfil the duties that were expected of him.

“Tell me… if you are not a king, what are you?” Bahamut said.

“I’m just a prince, I’m just - some guy,” Noctis snapped, exhausted. 

“You must choose. For if you are a prince, you must become king. Yet if you are only a man, you must become a hero nonetheless.”

Noctis paused.

All his life, everyone had expected him to be king. He had expected himself to be king. But he would never be able to be the kind of king he had always dreamed of being, a just ruler and leader. If he couldn’t have that, if being king meant dropping on a crown and a title like a glamour and dying a glorious death, faking it to the very end, Noctis would rather die as himself. To at least have that dignity… 

Gladio would not like it. Ignis… had offered him a way out once, in Altissia, although Noctis had known better than to take it. And Prompto… 

Once again, a memory of kind, understanding words and a clasp on the shoulder rose to his mind: _King, prince, even if you’re just a guy, I’m behind you all the way._

“I’m a man,” Noctis said quietly. “I’m just a man.”

Bahamut regarded him steadily from beneath the shadow of his massive silver mask. “Then you must sacrifice, but the price is yours to name.”

“It… is?” Noctis said, feeling like he was being tricked somehow.

“It is as you say. You are no king. You will go forth as the Voice of Eos.”

Noctis’s head was spinning. Was this really, truly, a reprieve? Could he and his friends somehow save the world and still walk away afterwards - together? “And do what?” he said.

“What would you do to defeat the darkness, Noctis Caelum?” Bahamut said, eyes narrowing.

_Noctis told him._

⁂

Ten years passed. In the end, Noctis offered to divide the power of kings among his friends, and each of the three gladly accepted a portion of it. It was a heavy burden for each, but not more than any of them could bear. Together they stood united against Ardyn and the Starscourge. When it was done, they paid the price by relinquishing their power completely, including their original powers such as elemancy and the Armiger, and each promised never to hold the title of ruler or king. Despite the fact that Ignis would’ve made a great president, it was a sacrifice they all easily made their peace with. It was enough to make it to the end of the night alive, together.

After it was all over, Noctis and Prompto stood on a rooftop in Insomnia, faces tipped up to the now-visible stars. Without having to speak, they let their fingers intertwine.

“You saved my life,” Noctis said, after a moment. 

Prompto squeezed Noctis’s hand. “Thanks, but - no way. It was all you, dude.”

“I’m serious,” Noctis insisted. “If you hadn’t made me think it was okay to not be king, I wouldn’t have known what to say.”

“You were still the one to say it, though.”

“Just shut up and accept you’re really important to me, already,” Noctis said, tugging impatiently on Prompto’s hand. “I’m trying to have a moment.”

Prompto threw his head back and laughed, vital and bright.

**Author's Note:**

> In my headcanon, part of the reason that Bahamut’s plan for the salvation of the world explicitly included the king of light’s death was because after the astral war and the arising of Ardyn the usurper, the astrals feared that in giving the king of light the power to defeat Ardyn, they’d also be giving him the power to defeat THEM. Therefore, in order to prevent the king of light from challenging the gods, they mandated his death. Since Noctis doesn’t care about power and would gladly relinquish it once his personal responsibilities are fulfilled, he doesn’t have to die because he’s not a threat.
> 
> Comments always welcome!


End file.
